The Sun and Moon
Eyes lull as the night draws in,
curtains of the day pulled shut.
As the sun wallows in its resplendent orange,
smiling as it takes its leave.
Tired limbs fall heavy,
lids pulled tightly shut.
As the moon rises, in cold, white glory
joyously it races to its peak.
Young and free,
the great orb speeds on.
It’s cousin the sun
seeming sluggish and dull.
The dreaming masses
who rest while moon races;
wait until the old, sluggish sun
rises again, wallowing in orange.
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